


Things Said

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Series: The Least of Your Worries [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Post-Series, Reunions, Slave Trade, Tropes, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-19 02:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11303865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: Jack Robinson attempts to go after Phryne Fisher. Things get derailed. Phryne has to go undercover to find a way to go after Jack.





	1. Things She Said

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to @Sarahtoo for helping me through this online and also for (with @Collingwoodgirl) the convention writer's workshop. This wasn't meant to be my first fic, but it is.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack Robinson attempts to come after Phryne Fisher. It doesn't go well. Chapter 1 is Jack's POV. The rest of the story is primarily from Phryne's POV.

“Come after me, Jack Robinson,” she’d asked. So, he had. Or he tried. That had to account for something. Fat lot of good it would do him now.

“Tried to touch the sun. No wonder I got burned.” He said to nobody.  He ran his hand over his face. How long had he been here now? A week? Two? He didn’t know for certain, but from the length of his beard he’d guess almost two.

He had boarded the ship with love and hope.  He wrote her letters which he planned to read to her once they were together. The voyage had been long but uneventful. At least until Said.

At Port Said it all went wrong.

They would be in port for two days. Jack decided part of “Come after me, Jack Robinson,” would be to embrace her sense of adventure. So, he left the ship to find some.

He had. Or rather, it found him. Or rather, he chased it down an alley, it knocked him over the head, and locked him in this (what was this place?) dungeon — for lack of a better word.  No one had spoken to him. They fed him. They didn’t abuse him. They just… kept him.

He tried to get away.  At first. The first day (or was it the second? His sense of time was getting away from him.) He’d made it to the door. They’d beaten the poor boy who brought him his food instead of him. He didn’t think he could handle the guilt of trying again.

The sound of the door. Either the time was wrong, or his stomach shrank in the past fortnight, because his gut wasn’t growling yet.

Not the same boy who left him his tray of food every day. The poor boy who was punished for his escape attempt. Interesting.

Anything different was interesting. This time it was two burly young men (maybe the same burly young men who threw him in here, it happened so quickly and seemed so long ago) and a well-groomed older man in a dishdashi and keffiyeh.

“Hello. What can I do for you, gentlemen?” He was so desperate for conversation, any conversation, that he tried to engage. Besides, in silence, he could gather no information.

“You’ve been sold,  _ Alshaytan Al’abyad _ ” was all the well-groomed gent said to him. He’d heard that name before, but wasn’t sure what it meant. He felt fairly confident it wasn’t a term of endearment.

The burly men opened his cage and grabbed him on either side. Jack saw no point in resisting without more information. He’d bide his time. He absorbed as much as he could once they passed his last point of capture. It told him little. Non-descript hallways leading to a larger room with several cargo vans. He supposed it was a garage, but before he could take in too much information, he was tossed unceremoniously into the back of a van. He didn’t bother to try to figure out the turns because he didn’t know where he started — and frankly, wasn’t interested in going back. Wherever he ended up, he’d try to figure out his escape from there.

It was bright when they dragged him out of the van. His eyes were unaccustomed to dilating after so long in the dim light in which he’d existed. It blinded him.

He heard voices away from him. And then the sound of the van doors slamming, the engine revving, and the van driving away. The hands that held him now were decidedly less burly than before. A strangely familiar voice spoke. Familiar — yet utterly foreign. Jack wondered if he was losing his mind.

“ _ Yastahimu laha. Yuhaliq lah. Wahalb la ‘iilaa khaymat jablin _ .” The voice was feminine yet authoritative. A soft masculine voice responded, “ _ Nem Malkati _ .”

Large soft hands directed him to walk. He felt canvas scrape across his head as his eyes started to adjust to a dimmer light. Blinking a few times, he found himself in a luscious and exotic tent with a large copper tub steaming in the center. There were two younger men in simple dishdashi beginning to undress him. “What? What are you doing?” His face expressed alarm until the shorter man signaled towards the bath. It did seem inviting. He hadn’t bathed since the ship. “I can take it from here, gentlemen.” The young men just smiled uncomprehendingly and continued their task. Perhaps he should contemplate his escape from the tub.

The young men undressed him completely, unconcerned with his nakedness. He wasn’t comfortable being so exposed, but the thought occurred that these young men were likely as vulnerable as the poor boy who’d been beaten in his place  — so he decided his best option was to accept this. For now.

The young men maneuvered him into the tub and began scrubbing him vigorously. He hadn’t been very active in his dungeon, but the grime had built up. He was momentarily startled when the shorter man began cleaning around his cock, but the man’s manner stayed static and he relaxed into the tub. He had to figure out how to get out of this tent, preferably without harming these young men.

The taller man urged Jack to stand and then he poured tepid water over him to rinse off the grime. He was directed out of the tub, swaddled in towels, and placed on a low chair. 

A feminine form in a full veil entered the tent carrying as towel covered bowl and a pitcher of steaming water. She moved over to him. She silently urged him to be still with her fingertips on his shoulder. She wet his face with the towel that had been draped over the large bowl after pouring steaming water from the pitcher over it. Out of the large bowl, she pulled a smaller bowl with shaving lather and coated his lower face with it. Jack was glad for the swaddling of the towels. Despite the uncertainty and potential danger of his circumstances (or was it because of those things?­­) he felt the stirrings of arousal.

The feminine form lathered his face as he tried to peer behind the veil to catch some glimmer of her eyes. It was no use. He contemplated trying his escape now, but this was no better an opportunity than the bath. She unsheathed a sharp knife and began to remove his beard. He didn’t want to attack a woman, and besides, she had a knife very near his throat.

He closed his eyes against the sensation of the blade scraping smoothly on his face. He imagined her doing this. He longed for it to be her. In his imagination, he could smell her. A low moan rumbled from his throat without permission and his eyes shot open. “No. I can’t give into this. It isn’t her. This isn’t what I want.” He wasn’t sure if he said it or thought it. The feminine form wielding the knife paused, lifting the knife from his face. The thoughts cascaded through his mind.  His arousal subsided and fear started to take hold. He trembled and his eyes widened. With her free hand, his groomer stroked his hair willing him to settle. He let out a breath and closed his eyes once again.

The feminine form finished shaving his beard and with an odd touch of familiarity, lightly cupped his face. She gathered her things and ducked out of the tent.

The washing men had changed the water in the tub and, unwrapping him, urged him back into it. A different veiled feminine form appeared with a plate of fruit and a mug of water and presented it to him in the bath. Jack gave a brief thought that he might have been killed and this was some sort of afterlife, or more likely, he was unconscious and this was all a hallucination. Either seemed more plausible than this being real. The feminine form bearing the food spoke in very stilted English. “You eat now. My queen. She wishes for you to join her. You must please her. She has paid many genehs for you. You must please her.”  Jack didn’t know what to say. He had been longing for conversation, and now he was struck mute. He ate his fruit and drank his water and wondered how he was going to manage this task. “Why me?” he wondered.

His bathers returned after the young woman with the food and the directive to “please the queen” ducked out of the tent.  They helped him to stand and thoroughly dried him. The taller man signaled for him to raise his arms and once Jack complied, he pulled a white linen robe over his head.  

The woman with the fruit returned and took him by the hand. His panic began to rise. How was he going to get out of this?

Dusk had fallen since he arrived, so he could see he was in a group of very lavish tents. It was clear they were in the desert, but scanning the horizon, he couldn’t make out anything. No settlements near by, nothing but the tents in this grouping. Running away was not looking viable.

The woman brought him into the most ornate tent. Slightly smaller than the other tents, but it had a clear air of importance. She bowed and backed out, leaving him to gaze around the room.

The room had an amber glow to it. Jack couldn’t really tell where the lights were coming from, but the room decidedly glowed. The floor was covered with stacks of ornate rugs and large pillows in shades of orange and red and purple. “She would love this,” his traitorous brain informed him instead of working on an escape plan.

In the center of the tent, was a dais topped with more blankets and pillows. In the center of the makeshift bed sat the figure who had shaved him, still wearing her veil, but her burqa had been replaced with a silky black robe.

Jack would have had to have sustained his blindness to not find the tableau alluring, but… no. This wasn’t right. He took a deep breath “I appreciate all that you have done, don’t think that I don’t. The bath, the food, the not killing me… please believe I’m grateful… but I. I’m in lo…” he paused, not sure why he hesitated to admit how he felt, “I mean to say, I already belong to someone else.”

The feminine figure widened her legs allowing the robe to open and showed him her most intimate treasure. He looked, stunned, for slightly longer than propriety demanded before averting his eyes upwards. “I can see that you are quite lovely, and I’m sure that any man would be honoured to ‘please you’… but please. Please understand,” He choked out, “I’m taken.”

He turned his back on the figure and stood facing the tent entrance.  He heard a sound behind him and felt small strong fingers trail across his back. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath… and paused. How could this foreign creature smell so… familiar? He kept his eyes closed as he felt her move around to the front of him. Her fingers tracing over his face now, the scent was stronger with her hands on his face. He felt tears form behind his closed eyes.  He sighed as he whispered, “Oh, how I wish you really were…” he opened his eyes, “PHRYNE!?”

“Hello, Jack.”

 


	2. Thing he said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne decides to surprise Jack in Port Said. It didn't go well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant this to be a silly one-off, but Phryne insisted that she had something to say about the matter. Her part is a bit more in depth than Jack's.

“I always feared another man would sweep you away from me.” Phryne would have laughed at the irony if she weren’t so angry. And afraid.

She had decided to surprise Jack in Egypt at Port Said. It thrilled and terrified her in equal measure that he took her up on her dare to come after her.

She loved him. It was a different kind of love than she’d felt before, but she acknowledged it as love. For most of her lovers she felt eros, the love of the body. Though, her feelings for her lovers tended more towards ludus, or playful, uncommitted love. She certainly felt eros for Jack, but it was deeper than that. No. Her love for Jack started with philia—friendship love —and transformed to eros, the one feeding the other. But in recent months, even without consummation of their lust, the love had also begun to gather a feeling of storge—familial love. No matter what happened, or didn’t happen, in the boudoir—Jack was her family.

And some man, or rather men, had swept him away from her.

She landed in Egypt two days before Jack’s ship arrived. She made friends with the port manager of the Aberdeen and Commonwealth Line (and a small investment in his children’s future) to arrange a surprise visit to her favorite passenger.

Once he’d arrived, she kept her presence a secret. She was delighted that he seemed to be keen to explore the port city. In addition to showing a side of him that she was hungry to know more about, it worked well with her plans. He would be out of the cabin so her co-conspirators could arrange the scene of seduction. She didn’t want to let him out of her sight however, so she donned native garb, including an extremely conservative full head veil, and disappeared into the crowds. There was a certain freedom in anonymity.

Oh, but he was beautiful! She had never seen him like this. He was wearing a light linen, pinstriped suit and straw fedora as a concession to the sticky, oppressive heat. He still wore a waistcoat and tie, but these too were light in colour. Everything was lighter. Even his normal, dour expression was lightened by a look of awe and wonder. He was, quite simply, luminescent.

Much of her longed to go to him, but she really was enjoying this game. This secret observation. This undercover operation. Her veil allowed her to observe him freely without any fear of discovery. It was hypnotic and delicious. _He_ was hypnotic and delicious.

After a hearty lunch of baba ghannoug, ful medames, hard-boiled eggs, and a dessert of basbousa (that man and his appetite! Phryne’s stomach bloated in sympathy), he continued to wander the streets with Phryne secretly in his wake. He seemed to be simply enjoying the day and taking in the differentness of the place. “How marvelous!” Phryne thought.

As he turned down a smaller street, she witnessed him stop short. “Oi! Back off!” he shouted after a moment’s pause, and then he took off running down the narrow street. Phryne rushed to catch up as well as she could in the flowing and suddenly cumbersome robes.

As she rounded the corner she watched a bear of a man bludgeon Jack with a cudgel and Jack slump to the ground. “JACK!!” she screamed and ran towards the fray.  In the narrow streetway, she saw the lifeless form of her Jack on the ground and three behemoths standing at the back of an open van, one of whom was carrying a hysterical young woman. The bear who bludgeoned Jack picked him up like a sack of potatoes and tossed him into the back of the van.

Phryne pulled her pearl-handled gun out of her robes, “Let her go,” she ordered. The men looked up at her and scowled. “ _Laissez-la partir_!” she demanded again. This time the brute holding the girl turned and smiled at Phryne. He then shifted his position to start choking the girl.

She wasn’t playing this game. Phryne shot him in the shoulder. He cried out in pain and dropped the girl. The other two men yelled and slammed themselves into the van. In a flash, they put the van into gear and took off down the narrow street, taking Jack away from her. “NO! JACK!” She cried after them. She could make out the writing on the back of the van:

الناس المحرك

She turned back towards the large lump of human excrement writhing on the ground in pain and pulled off her veil in fury and frustration. She kept her gun pointed at him. Contemplating murder for a brief moment. “No,” she thought, “I can’t get information out of a dead man. Best keep my wits and see what I can find out. I can’t rescue Jack if I get myself arrested for homicide, no matter how justifiable.”

The girl he dropped was still whimpering on the ground. Pretty thing. Couldn’t have been more than 16 years old. Maybe 17 at the most. She had flawless caramel coloured skin and rich, shiny chocolate toned waves of hair. Her eyes were hazel; greyish green with a ring of brown around the outside. She was quite striking.

“Do you speak English?” Phryne questioned her. No response.

_“Parlez-vous français?_ “Phryne tried again. Probably the best bet. The international language of Port Said was French. Phryne’s Arabic was a little too rusty to trust at the moment given the seriousness and urgency of the situation.

“ _Oui m’dame. “_ Now she was getting somewhere.

” _Quel était le signe sur la fourgonnette?_ “ Hopefully, the girl could read and had the good sense to pay attention to what had been written on the back of the van.

 “ _Déménageurs_ ,”

_People Movers_. She translated internally. “Damn.”

With her gun trained on the man, she walked over to him. “ _Est-ce que ça fait mal?”_ she asked him gently. He nodded, wincing in pain. “Good.”


	3. Things he Said to himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne tries to find some help in her quest to find Jack. She finds an old friend in the area who may know how to help her.

“I should know better than to underestimate the power of the feminine.” The young man said.

“Yes, it appears that Nefertiti changed the course of Egyptian religious tradition. Quite impressive for any ruler. Especially impressive for a woman,” the man with unruly dark hair and a thick continental European accent confirmed.

“That’s not going to be a very popular finding.” The younger, fairer-haired man responded.

“Hello, Hans.” They were interrupted, by a beautiful woman with a rich voice addressing the dark-haired man. The men had been engrossed in conversation, and hadn’t noticed the woman approaching the table in the café. Hans looked up in complete confusion for what must have been at least a full minute. This woman was terribly familiar to him, but the memory of her was completely out of context.

“Phryne Fisher? Good lord, what are you doing here?” he finally responded, clearly surprised to see her.

“Nice to see you, Hans. It’s been a while,” she looked at the table meaningfully, there was plenty of room, “may I join you?”

“Yes, of course. Of course! How are you? What have you been up to since… well, what was it, 1918?” he asked. Hans suddenly noted that she wasn’t alone. There was a younger woman trying to stay behind her, and when Hans motioned for Phryne to sit, she turned to the young woman and urged her to sit as well. The girl was lovely. Young; maybe 17 years old. She had light brown skin and hazel green eyes. She wore a hijab, so he couldn’t see her hair.

“More than can be explained in a single conversation, I’m afraid,” she smiled sweetly, “but I’m physically well and my fortunes have been very good in recent years.” Her brow creased slightly at this point. Hans wasn’t quite sure whether to probe further, so he turned to his previous table companion and then back to Phryne, “Phryne, may I introduce Freddie Lloyd. He’s my newest recruit at Amarna. Quite brilliant and not afraid to get into the trenches.” The young man presented his hand, smiling, “Freddie, this is the Honourable Miss… is it still Miss?”

“It is.”

“Miss Phryne Fisher.” Hans finished the introduction and Phryne took Freddie’s hand shaking it firmly. “Charmed to meet you, Miss Fisher.” The young man sincerely stated.

“Likewise, Mr. Lloyd,” Phryne responded, “Hans, Mr. Lloyd, may I present Miss Sanura Abdulrafi. She doesn’t speak much English yet, but she’s learning very quickly.”

“ _Français?_ “ Hans queried Sanura.

“Yes.” She replied softly, averting her eyes.

“So. Amarna. I thought you were heading to Mesopotamia?” Phryne queried politely, though somewhat distractedly.

“Yes,” he started, “I have been there, and am heading there again next year,”

He paused looking at his old friend. It was clear she didn’t care about Amarna or Mesopotamia, “Phyrne, why are you here?” She closed her eyes, letting out a breath.

“Hans, I need your help.”

“What’s going on, Phryne?” he could tell something was very wrong. This was not like the Phryne he remembered. Phryne glanced at the fair-haired man, and then around the café. “Perhaps we could speak somewhere a little less public?”

Hans didn’t say anything, just stared at her for a long moment and finally, nodded. “Of course,” he offered, “I can give you the address to my rooms, if that will be acceptable?” Phryne nodded softly and he took a small notebook and a pen out of his jacket pocket, opened it, and began writing.

“Join me there for dinner? 7:00 PM?” He offered, tearing the note from the book.

“I’d be delighted,” she took the address and her standing signaled the all at the table to stand. She shook Freddie’s hand and exchanged cheek-kisses with Hans. “Until this evening,” she fare-welled. “Until this evening.”

* * *

 

Phryne and Sanura left the café and walked the short distance back Phryne’s suite at the Shepheard’s Hotel. They relocated to Cairo three days ago after the trail in Port Said grew cold. The girl whose abduction Jack had interrupted decided that Phryne Fisher was exactly the person she needed to help her. Sanura was 17 years old and had no one left in the world except for her twin brother Tarik. The problem was, she hadn’t seen her brother in over a month. She suspected he had been taken as well. All she had left of him was his photo.

As they entered the suite, the large man in the living room —who was tied to the chair and who was sporting a bandaged shoulder — addressed them, “ _Est-ce que tu m'as apporté de la nourriture? (Did you bring me food ?)_ ” He asked hungrily.

Sanura nodded at him and brought him a kerchief in which she had wrapped a hawawshi from the café. She set the kerchief on his lap and untied his wrist restraints, leaving his chest and legs bound to the chair. It was a familiar routine after nearly a week, but becoming a less necessary one.

 _“Merci, Sanura. (Thank you, Sanura)”_ He smiled very slightly at her. _“De rien, Thabit.(You’re welcome, Thabit)”_ She said very softly, not looking at him directly. He unwrapped the kerchief and began to eat greedily.

Phryne initially thought to go to the police with her spoil, really she did. She was used to civilized police men like her Jack. “But first,” she’d thought, “I should see to that shoulder. And see if I can get any information to start the hunt.”

Five days ago, back in the street way, she had ungently used her veil to stem the bleeding and then she forced him at gunpoint to stand up, _“Vos jambes sont bien. Se lever.(Your legs are fine. Get up.)”_

He protested, but stood anyway. He looked like a man from a distance, a large man. Up close, she could see he was really only a boy. _“Vous venez avec moi,”_ she told him, _“Il vaut mieux avoir des_ _réponses._ _”_ She added with a warning tone _(“You’re coming with me. And you better have answers.”)_. The girl followed her as well, without any urging at all.

Once they arrived at her hotel suite, Phryne restrained the young man with curtain ties and instructed the girl to get her first aid kit out of the lavatory. She took her knife out of her garter and cut off the young man’s thawb. The bullet had gone through his shoulder and hadn’t broken anything. Some torn skin, fascia, and muscle — and a fair bit of blood, but nothing catastrophic. As long as it stayed clean, he’d be fine. She suspected from his reaction that he’d never really been in any serious pain before. “He probably shouldn’t be in that line of work if he’s not prepared to get hurt,” she thought remorselessly.

That was all five days ago. Since then she learned that this young man was called Thabit Bomani. He works, or likely worked, if his boss finds out how many beans he’d spilt, for Ziyad Gahiji.

Mr. Gahiji wouldn’t be happy with what Thabit told her so far. She discovered that the police weren’t to be trusted, luckily for both Thabit and herself she figured that out before she tried to turn him over. She discovered that, though slavery was outlawed in Egypt in the previous century, there was a thriving trade with a nomadic marketplace, though Thabit didn’t have any idea how to find it now that he’d been separated from his boss. She discovered that on occasion the large archaeological expeditions like the ones run by her friend Hans picked up laborers in lots from this market.

Phryne was getting ready to leave to meet Hans in his rooms. “Are you sure you’ll be alright alone with him, Sanura? You _can_ come with me, you know.” She was helping the girl learn English and Sanura was picking it up very quickly.

“Yes, Miss. I am good. I am safe. Thabit will not get away. You will learn more alone.” Sanura sounded confident. Phryne turned to Thabit.

 _“Voulez-vous retourner à Gahiji (Do you want to go back to Gahiji)?”_ She asked the young man.  He answered quickly, _”Non, Mlle. Fisher._ _Je préfère rester avec vous._ _(No, Miss Fisher. I’d rather stay with you.)”_ She really did believe him. From what she had learned, Gahiji was a monster. But she was no fool. She didn’t trust him.

 _“Thabit, s_ _i je te laisse partir, voulez-vous courir à Gahiji?_ _(Thabit, if I let you go, will you run back to Gahiji?)”_ She asked more directly, looking deeply into his eyes and holding his gaze. He stared back at her for a long moment, tears forming in his eyes.

 _“_ _Je ne sais pas._ _(I don’t know.)”_ he finally admitted to himself as well as to her, “ _Il vaut mieux m'attacher._ _(You’d better tie me up.)”_

Phryne and Sanura re-tied the ropes around his wrists. _“Merci, Mlle. Fisher.”_ He said to her as she finished tying the knot.

* * *

 

Hans was staying in a group of rooms at the Egyptian University campus before his tenure at the Amarna dig was to start. Phryne arrived at the address he’d given her at five minutes past 7:00 PM.

She was alone this time.

“Phryne, my dear!” he greeted her with a kiss on each cheek, “please come in.”

“Thank you, Hans.” She handed him a bottle of wine, “And thank you again for agreeing to see me privately.”

“Can I get you a drink?” he offered.

“Yes, please.” She moved through the rooms after him as he moved to the bar. He held up the bottle she had given him, “Wine,” he offered, “or whisky?” he asked with an arched brow and a smirk.

“You remembered.” She smiled at him. “Whisky, if you’re offering.”

He poured them both two fingers of Oban single malt and then sat an arm’s length from her on the sofa. “How is Jettie?” she asked.

“You know her. Still focused on the work, of course,” he reported about his wife, “She’s already at the site.”

“When do you join her?” she probed.

“In a few days,” Hans reported, “I’m here to arrange for dig workers and to welcome Freddie. He’s just arrived.”

They spoke for a time of things past. Old friends and long odds.

After a while, Phryne grew quiet. Contemplative.

“What is going on?” Hans finally broke the silence.

“I need to find the Wagh el Birket market.” She said bluntly after a moment. Hans choked on his drink. “You’re joking.”

“No. I’m quite serious. Can you help me?” she looked at him with a depth of sincerity he’d not seen since the war.

“Slavery is illegal in Egypt, Phryne,” Hans admonished.

“Yes. Of course, it is,” she agreed, “Can you tell me how to find it or not?”

Hans rubbed his hand over his face with his mouth open, glancing at her anxiously. “You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“I do. I have heard rumor that you have the ability to find the market,” she stated matter-of-factly, “I need to find it. Ergo, I am here.”

He slumped his shoulders, hanging his head, he couldn’t look at her.

“Perhaps. Once upon a time. But things are different now.” She continued looking at him, saying nothing. “Why? You can’t need labourers or,” the word caught in his throat, “slaves.”

Phryne could tell that this was not comfortable for Hans, but she needed to know.

This was important.

This was everything.

This was Jack.

“A very dear friend has been abducted and I _believe_ may be on offer at the market,” her eyes misted unexpectedly, “I have to try.”

The room was silent for a long while. Phryne studied Hans in profile as he studied the bottom of his glass. After many long minutes, he let out a long breath.

“When I first heard of the market, I was, of course, disgusted. My predecessor had acquired laborers from there and told me that was the fastest way to get good, strong help. I tried different ways, but it was difficult to gather the men I needed quickly.” He took a long drink before continuing. “Then, I started to convince myself that I could use the dig to stop the evils of the market,” he let out a short. humorless half-laugh, “I thought if I could get them out of there, it would make a difference. I would be different. I would offer real employment and not a life of servitude. I thought… I’m not like those others,” he paused struggling to say the word, “buying…people. But it didn’t make a difference. It just added to the demand.”

He searched for something in the bottom of his glass which wasn’t there.

Absolution, maybe.

“I told myself I was trying to help,” he said softly, “but I was merely laying the cobblestones of the damned.” He turned to her.

Phryne nodded in understanding. “Very well,” he agreed, “I has been a while, but I can still make contact with them. I will do this. For you.”

“Thank you, Hans.”

“You’ll need another identity,” he announced.


	4. Things others said about her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne gets a secret identity, that of Princess Dihya al-Husinid of Tunisia. She and her “handmaiden” Sanura use Hans to make contact with the nomadic slave market. Phryne’s prisoner tells her that his boss, Mr. Ziyad Gahiji, will probably sell Jack in a lot of other laborers.

“I understand she’s related to the king,” Hans tried to casually mention to Mr. Gahiji, “of Tunisia, of course. Not Fuad.”

“I thought they had a crown-prince?” Ziyad Gahiji looked at the robed and veiled, but clearly lovely and graceful form with rising interest.

Hans kicked himself internally, “Who can keep up?” he chuckled as nonchalantly as he could muster.

Mr. Gahiji studied him briefly before smirking and nodding in agreement. “True, my friend. True.” He considered the feminine shape that still had their interest, “Is she,” he paused, “betrothed?”

Hans was nervous about this line of questioning. It was dangerous ground indeed. “I don’t know the—particulars— of her situation,” he searched for a way out of this, “but certainly a woman of her standing has been aligned.”

Ziyad Gahiji considered this new bidder. It was probable that she wasn’t who she said she was—in his experience, most people weren’t, but she was willing to pay. That was enough for him. He would let her bid and see what happened. He was always happy to liberate money from any interested party, no matter their reasons. He was a businessman. What buyers did with his merchandise once the transaction was complete was of absolutely no interest to him.

The Wagh el Birket Market was really just a collection of tents in the middle of the desert, far from anything which could reasonably be called a town or a city or even a road. It only stayed in operation in any one location for two nights before it was packed up, scattered, and reassembled five days later in another location.

If Phryne didn’t find Jack at this location’s market, she’d have to wait almost another week. And that was only _ if _ she didn’t blow her cover. And  _ if  _ she were invited back again. A lot of “ifs”.  

She was introduced as Princess Dihya al-Husinid of Tunisia. She kept herself veiled. Probably not necessary if she really were a princess from Tunisia, but needs must. It wasn’t questioned.

She found, in this place, not much was questioned. Everything was on offer.

At her right elbow, she sensed Sanura tense. The shift in her companion’s manner caused her to draw her attention to the far side of the camp. A truck had pulled up and rumbled to a stop. About 20 young women — girls really — were being herded off of the truck and into a shabby looking tent. Most were weeping. All looked terrified.

Phryne dug her fingernails into her palms. Rage began to build. She knew what those girls were being sold to do. She knew what horrors awaited them. She knew.

She knew, but she also knew it would do no good to react now. She would have no hope of rescuing those girls.  Any attempt would put Sanura in danger. It would cause her to lose all hope of finding and rescuing Jack. No. As angry as she was, she needed to stick to the plan.

She took a deep breath and eased her fingernails out of her palms. She blindly reached her right hand for Sanura’s and found the girl’s trembling hand eagerly fit into hers under their robes.

Thabit told her that that Mr. Gahiji would probably try to sell Jack in a lot with other laborers. It was possible he’d been sold in the previous market, but Thabit thought the odds were good that this one would be his first. If Phryne could outbid the other buyers, she could get Jack with no problem. The plan seemed simple enough.

Phryne hated the idea of buying Jack, and she knew he would hate it even more, but she didn’t see many other options.

The first round of bidding was due to start soon.

There were about fifteen other buyers there, and countless other humans. Mr. Gahiji, while not the only broker at the market, was by far the most popular. He commanded the attention of the crowd and speaking in Arabic, “ _ Awal majmueat li hi khmst alrijal alrabt _ ,” Mr. Gahiji offered “ _ lmye aleummal alsaeba. _ ” Sanura whispered to Phryne, “He’s offering five hard-working young men for this lot, Miss.” Phryne perked up, trying to get a good look at the men as they were paraded in front of the crowd. All five appeared strong and capable, but none of the five were Jack. Her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. This was going to be more difficult than Thabit promised.

After the first round, Phryne and Sanura retreated to her tent and both removed their veils. Phryne sat heavily on an ottoman and rested her elbows on her knees. Her head sank into her hands.

“There will be another lot, Miss.” Sanura tried to console her mistress. Phryne didn’t look up, just smirked her lips slightly. “Yes, Sanura. I know,” she agreed, “I know.”

There was another lot. And another. And still another. Still no sign of Jack.

Hans tried to keep his distance from her for most of the day, to keep suspicion away, but near the end of the first day he approached when attentions were focused elsewhere. “Any sign of your friend,” he asked quietly.

“None.” Phryne was frustrated but kept her cool. Outwardly, at any rate. Thank goodness for the veil. 

“Gahiji is beginning to get suspicious. If you don’t make a bid on any lot, you could be in trouble.” Hans warned. Phryne’s eyes widened behind the veil. She hadn’t even considered that. She was so focused on finding Jack that she forgot to look out for her own wellbeing. She had to be careful, if not for her own safety, for Sanura’s. 

The bidding for the day was done, but the entertainment for the evening was just beginning. Fires were lit. Drums and tambourines and lutes and ouds began to play. In another time, in another place, it would be wonderful. The girls from the truck had been dressed in sheer veiled robes and were being passed around like party favors. With bile rising in her throat, Phryne decided it would be safest to keep Sanura and herself in the tent for the evening.  She didn’t sleep that night. Her apparent rank protected her and her companion, but she couldn’t count on it.

Mr. Gahiji’s first lot of the day was a small one. Two young men, both with skin so fair, that excepting for their facial features, they seemed almost European. They were both quite slender and somewhat frail looking. One of the young men was normal height for a grown man, perhaps just under six feet tall. The other man was slightly shorter than Phryne. The majority of the bidders laughed at the offering.

Mr. Gahiji started the bidding, “ _ Aladhi sayaetini eshr? _ ” laughter erupted from the crowd.  _ “Sawf ‘uetik khms _ !” shouted a man from the crowd and the laughter intensified. Sanura whispered to Phryne, “He asked for ten, that man countered with five.” Phryne nodded. “ _ Je vais vous donner dix! (I will give you ten!)” _ She called out raising her arm.

Mr. Gahiji smiled and nodded at Phryne, “ _ La Princesse de Tunisie en offer dix. Puis-je avoir quinze? (The Princess from Tunisia offers ten. Can I get fifteen?)”  _ He announced first in French for the “Tunisian” and then repeated the same in Arabic _.  _ He paused for just a short moment. He could read the crowd well enough to know that he wasn’t getting any other offers.   _ “La? Non? (No?)”  _ He tried one last time, _ “Vendu! Au beau royal Tunisien. (Sold! To the lovely Tunisian royal.)”  _ He didn’t bother translating to the rest of the crowd. They had all moved on to other interests.

Phryne directed Sanura to pay for the young men as they’d discussed earlier.  Once the transaction was complete, she was handed a lead which was attached to the men’s shackles and a key.  Sanura led them back to Phryne and they stood in terrified silence behind her. She had no idea what she was going to do with these poor lambs, but she would deal with that in time. For now, she needed to keep looking out for any sign of Jack.

She attended every bid. It took every ounce of her self-control to suppress her outrage at the proceedings. Bid after bid, the anger and frustration kept building. Finally, the last bid of this market arrived.

She was certain this was it. It had to be. She had put all of her efforts and quite a lot of money into this plan. This had work. Gahiji announced the lot and brought five strong young men out for display. Phryne scanned over their beautiful forms looking for the familiar one.

Jack wasn’t there.

She didn’t understand. How could this be? Everything rested on this plan and he wasn’t there.

She was devastated.

She didn’t have any other leads. What if he’d already been sold? What if he’d been killed? What if he was lost to her forever?

She held her body still. The veil hid the tears streaming down her face.

After the final bidding completed and she was certain there was really no sign of jack, she headed back to the tent with Sanura and her new —what were they? — staff? 

She pulled off her veil and huffed loudly. “Where is he?!” Sanura realized that her mistress was not speaking to her.

Another tear escaped the corner of Phryne’s eye. She shook her head and wiped it away. “Sanura, darling, please unchain them.” 


	5. Things others said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne has one last desperate plan to find Jack. This chapter is no longer smut-adjacent, but smut-lite.

_"Vous savez que votre plus grande passion est très proche_ _(You know that your greatest passion is very close at hand.)”_  He’d read his mark very well, it seemed.

Phryne cast her veiled eyes at Gahiji. _“Combien?(How much?)”_ She asked firmly.

 

* * *

 

 

 At the close of the previous Wagh el Birket Market, Phryne had been devastated. She had spent thirty-six hours in the company of the vilest samples humanity had on offer and had nothing to show for it. Well, technically that wasn’t true. She had the young men whom she had— she shuddered—purchased, in an effort to maintain her cover identity.

“Sanura, darling, please unchain them.” Phryne had instructed earlier. Sanura nodded and used the key to unlock the shackles on the wrists of the young men.

Phryne faced their terrified faces. They were looking at the floor and wouldn’t meet her gaze.

“Do you speak English?” she tried without much confidence. No response.

“ _Parlez-vous François?”_ she hoped. Still no response.  Oh, dear. This was going to be more difficult.

“ _Hal tatahadath Alearabia?”_ they both looked up briefly at their native Arabic.  They quickly averted their eyes again, “ _Nem, malkati.”_ They both responded, not quite in unison.  Phryne closed her eyes in frustration for a moment. She opened them turning to Sanura.

“Will you please tell them that I’m not _really_ royalty and that they do not need to address me as their queen?” Sanura nodded and began to translate, but Phryne quickly interrupted, “on second thought, this may not be the time and place for that conversation. It might be best to save that until we’re back in Cairo.” Sanura agreed.

Phryne thought for a moment and then quickly started to put her veils back on and addressed Sanura, “Offer them something to eat and drink. I need to talk to Mr. Gahiji.” And she exited the tent.

She found Mr. Gahiji at the opening of his personal tent and approached him with purpose, _“Monsieur Gahiji, pourrais-je avoir un-mot? (Mr. Gahiji, Could I have a word?)”_

 _“Mais bien sûr, princesse. Comment puis-je être au courant? (But of course, Princess. How may I be of service?)”_ He turned to her giving her his full attention.

 _“Je suis curieux si vous pouvez répondre à des demandes spéciales? (I’m curious if you can fulfil special requests?)”_ She asked looking at him carefully for any sign that this would be a dangerous line of questioning. He looked at her for a time before answering.

_“De temps en temps, nous pouvons remplir des commandes spéciales. Pour le bon prix, bien sûr._

_(From time to time we can fulfil special orders. For the right price, of course.)”_

_“Bien sûr. (Of course.)”_ She agreed carefully. He beamed at her, unctuously,

 _“Qu’est-ce que votre cœur désire?(What is it your heart desires?)”_ She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, which the veil — thankfully — disguised.

_“J'ai toujours eu une passion pour les Antipodes. Particulièrement l'Australie. Surtout les hommes australiens. Plus précisément avec des yeux bleus._

_(I have always had a passion for the Antipodes. Particularly Australia. Especially Australian men. Specifically, with blue eyes.)”_ A bit on the nose, but she was laying all of her cards on the table here. This was her last, best effort.

He raised his eyebrows and studied her for far longer than she was comfortable with. She clutched at the pearl handle of her revolver beneath her robes, hoping this didn’t come to a messy end for herself and everyone involved. Time seemed to stop.

Finally, Gahiji smiled broadly, _“Comme une chance l'aurait, j'ai quelque chose qui pourrait vous intéresser._ (As luck would have it, I have something which might interest you.)”

_“Merveilleux (How wonderful!)”_

  

* * *

 

 

On the way back to Cairo, through Sanura and her own extremely rusty understanding of Arabic, Phryne learned that the two young men were called Jahi (the shorter man) and Salih (the other one).

Jahi hailed from Kuwait. He had fled the country’s depression seeking employment in Port Said when he had been taken by Gahiji’s thugs.

Salih was Yemeni. He had left Yemen after being rejected by his lover. He had been living rough in the streets of Port Said having made his way there stowed away on a cargo ship. Gahiji’s brute-squad had swept him up with some other vagrants a few weeks before.

They all arrived back at the Shepheard’s Hotel exhausted. Mentally—physically—emotionally—exhausted. Phryne opened the door to her suite, and her eyebrows rose in surprise, _“Thabit. Vous êtes encore là. (Thabit. You’re still here.)”_ She observed, tensing slightly. She had let her prisoner go. Hoping that he wouldn’t run back to Gahiji to foil her plans, but figuring it would be fairly safe until at least after the market concluded.

 _“Oui, mademoiselle Fisher. J'ai pensé à ce que vous avez offert et je souhaite vous aider. (Yes, Miss Fisher. I have thought about what you’ve offered and I want to help.)”_ Thabit said quickly, glancing unconsciously at Sanura briefly as he spoke.

  _“Je suis trés content de l’entendre (I’m very glad to hear it!)”_ She beamed at him. She grinned slightly longer than was comfortable for everyone in the room and she was suddenly extremely sleepy as she relaxed with his declaration. She turned and padded her way towards her bedroom, leaving her former prisoner, _his_ former prisoner, and two very confused former slaves in her wake. As she walked she announced, _“Nous allons commencer dès que je me lève. (We’ll get started as soon as I wake up.”)_

 

* * *

 

 The five days passed quickly with all the wheels that had to be set in motion. Princess Dihya al-Husinid received her instructions on finding the market and she and her entourage prepared to depart. After much discussion and some argument, Thabit finally agreed that he would not come with them to the market. He had another role to play, and he was too well known to his former colleagues.

 The “Princess” and her entourage arrived and set themselves up in the provided space. Phryne had paid extra to expand her camp footprint. Last market, she had only procured a single tent for Sanura and herself. This iteration, she splurged for a small compound of several tents including one for bathing.

At about 3:00 p.m., Gahiji and his operation arrived and started moving into his compound. Phryne’s heart started to race, but she needed to keep her cool. She didn’t even know for certain that the “blue-eyed Australian” that Gahiji had promised to acquire for her was Jack. She had a feeling; but it wasn’t a certainty. Pacing her tent, she was a spark plug about to ignite, pressure building in her heart and mind threatening to combust, driving her to action. But she couldn’t act yet.

 At a quarter after 4:00 p.m., Sanura entered Phryne’s private tent. “M. Gahiji has sent for you.” Phryne took a deep breath and nodded to her. She fixed her veil and led Sanura out of the tent. She motioned for Jahi and Salih to follow her, and then strode purposefully to the Gahiji compound with her entourage following her.

Mr. Gahiji was speaking to his men when she marched up to him, _“Princesse! Comme il est délicieux de vous revoir. (Princess! How delightful to see you again.)”_ he greeted her.

 _“M. Gahiji.”_ she nodded in return, _“J'attends avec impatience notre transaction. Avez-vous trouvé ce que je désire? (I look forward to our transaction. Have you found what I desire?)”_

_“Il n'était pas facile de trouver quelque chose de si précis, mais je crois que vous serez heureux._

_(It wasn’t easy to find something so specific, but I believe you will be pleased.)”_ he oozed at her, _“Bien sûr, comme je l'ai mentionné, les demandes spéciales ont des prix spéciaux. (of course, as I mentioned, special requests have special pricing.)”_

 _“Je devrais voir la marchandise avant d'accepter votre prix, M. Gahiji. (I’ll need to see the merchandise before I agree to your price, Mr. Gahiji.”)_ Phryne knew this was a gamble, but it was one she needed to take.  Mr. Gahiji studied her for a moment and then laughed.  _“Mais, bien sûr, la princesse (But, of course, princess!”)_ He turned to his men, _“’Ahdir lah!(Bring him!)”_

 A few minutes later, a van like the one Phryne had seen in the streetway in Port Said pulled up near them and two large men got out of the front. They walked around to the back and opened it. They dragged a smaller, wiry man out of the back. He was filthy and squinting against the bright afternoon sun. His hair was wild auburn waves and his beard scraggly. Phryne’s gasped involuntarily, causing Gahiji to turn and look at her with suspicion.

It was him.

 It was as far from her well-groomed, buttoned-up Inspector Robinson as she could imagine, but it was most definitely Jack.

 Phryne struggled to find her voice. _“Il a l'air un peu rugueux. (He looks a little rough.)”_

Gahiji countered, _“Toute une partie du charme Antipode (All part of the Antipodean charm.)”_ She couldn’t seem too eager, but all she wanted was to get him away from all of this _, “Et il semble un peu vieux. (And he seems a little old.)”_

 _“Ou expérimenté. (Or experienced.)”_ countered Gahiji again. He read her exceptionally well. He might not know who she really was or her real intent, but he knew when he had a real buyer on the line.

 _"Vous savez que votre plus grande passion est très proche_ _(You know that your greatest passion is very close at hand.)”_  For the first time since he had been pulled out of the van, Phryne pulled her veiled eyes away from Jack and looked at Gahiji.

 _“Combien?(How much?)”_ She asked firmly. Gahiji studied her for a moment and then looked back at Jack. _“Cinq cents livres Égyptiennes(E£500)”_ That was more than he’d made during the entire previous market, but he suspected that this buyer was more interested than she let on. He didn’t care about her reasons.

After a long pause, Phryne answered.

 _“Très bien. Je suis d'accord. (Very well. I agree.)_ Phryne turned slightly to Sanura and nodded. Sanura stepped forward to pay for Jack. Gahiji motioned for Jack to be brought towards them and the van was driven away. His men handed Jack over to Jahi and Salih.

While they still had an audience, Phryne had to keep up appearances. She turned to her staff, “ _Yastahimu laha. Yuhaliq lah. Wahalb la ‘iilaa khaymat jablin (Bathe him. Shave him. Bring him to my tent_.)” she instructed in stilted Arabic. “ _Nem Malkati. (Yes, my queen)”_ Salih responded, as both men bowed to her and led Jack away.

Gahiji and his men broke out laughing _“Plaisant faire affaire avec vous, princesse. (Pleasant doing business with you, Princess.)”_ He said with a chuckle and wandered back into his compound.

Jahi and Salih had taken Jack to the bathing tent. Phryne and Sanura returned to her tent and Phryne collapsed in sobs of relief.

 

* * *

 

 

Sanura held her mistress for a time as she wept. Finally, Phryne started to still and Sanura felt it was safe to get up. She stood and started preparing the shaving materials they brought. As she prepared to exit the tent, Phryne rasped at her, “Wait.” Sanura turned towards her, “Let me. I need to see him.” Sanura looked skeptically at her for a few heartbeats and then nodded. She put down the bowl and pitcher and helped Phryne adjust her veil. “Be careful, Miss,” Sanura admonished, “this isn’t part of the plan.”

Phryne picked up the shaving supplies, “I know.”

She walked to the bathing tent with the bowl under one arm and a pitcher of steaming water held in her other hand. She paused before she entered the tent, taking a deep breath.

What if he was damaged in some way? What if his mind had gone? What if they had tortured him?

It didn’t matter. She had him now. She would protect him.

She still needed to be careful. There were eyes and ears everywhere and they were far from safe. But she needed to see him, to touch him, to know that he was really real.

She ducked into the tent. She saw him sitting on a low chair, wrapped in thick towels. Her breath caught at the sight of him for not the first time that day. He was no longer covered in dirt and grime, but his hair was still wild waves (though now damp) that she longed to run her fingers through. His face had wiry whiskers, just the wrong side of soft. She thought for a moment that he might actually look quite fetching with whiskers, but that he wouldn’t look quite like Jack.

She neared the chair and put down her bowl and pitcher. She moved over to him and he looked up at her trying to see her through her veil. She wished she could reveal herself to him, but it was too dangerous right now. She looked into his eyes though the fabric of the veil. It devastated her to see how afraid he was. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, very lightly stroking his skin with her fingertips, reveling in the slightest touch of her skin to his. The heat from his skin pulsed through her fingertips, up her arm, and radiated throughout her body.

She stepped away and wet the towel from the bowl with the steaming hot water, and then used the towel to wet his face. She then took a smaller bowl filled with shaving lather and a brush from the larger bowl and began to lather his face.  Jack alternated between trying to see through the veil and closing his eyes in sensory indulgence.

Once his face was lathered, she unsheathed the shaving knife. She began carefully, slowly, scraping the very sharp blade against his skin to remove his whiskers and the lather. With every pass, she would wipe the blade clean on the towel. Jack closed his eyes completely, giving up the game of trying to determine the identity of his tonsorial artist.

“He is so beautiful,” she thought, certainly not for the first time. His breath became more rapid, and she noticed the towel covering his midsection twitch. A low, gravelly moan —a growl, almost—escaped from his throat, and Phryne was pinched hard with arousal.  She lifted the knife to give herself a moment to recover. His eyes shot open and he looked horrified at his own sound of lust, and then terrified of the situation in which he found himself. She kept the knife away from his face as she used her free hand to stroke his hair. Without the pomade, it was soft and wavy. After a few soothing strokes, he let out a long breath and closed his eyes again.

Once she was sure he was calm, she finished her task. She took another moist warm towel from the bowl, and cleaned his face of any residual lather. She couldn’t stop herself from one more touch. She lightly cupped his face, stroking it with her fingertips as she pulled her hand away.

She packed up the shaving supplies and the ducked out of the tent, walking quickly to her own. “That was foolish, Phryne,” she silently chastised herself.

Once she returned to her private tent, Sanura was waiting for her. “We need to go back to the original plan,” Phryne informed her, “You were right, it was too great a risk.”

Sanura bowed lightly to her and left her alone. It was one thing for the members of the market to think she was indulging in the pleasures of her purchase, quite another to think that she might have feelings for him. She didn’t think she’d been seen, but she couldn’t be certain. Hopefully, Sanura could set it right and once Jack was in her private space she could explain things to him. Quietly. Discreetly. Closely. Intimately.

Phryne began to feel an aching warmth again. It had been far too long. She removed her veil and then her robes and perched naked on the makeshift bed situated on the dais in the center of her tent. She remembered the feel of Jack’s skin under her fingertips and closing her eyes began to map her fingertips along the same parts of her own body. She touched her left fingertips to her shoulder, stroking very gently and remembering the warmth that coursed through her as she touched Jack for the first time since he kissed her at the airfield so long ago. She traced her lips with her right fingers, remembering the feeling of Jack’s lips pressed against hers. Her left hand trailed feather-touches down her neck as she thought of his hand trailing down her neck when her scarf had been cut so many months ago.  She thought of the lather she spread over his strong jaw, and ran her right fingers lightly over her jaw. She thought of the love she felt when he brought her the swallow pin and she ran the fingers on her left hand between her breasts, and then drew lazy circles around each. She thought of the blade, slowly removing his whiskers as he closed his eyes against the sensation as she scraped her right fingernails lightly down her cheek. She thought of the growl she heard from her normally controlled Inspector and felt a rush, her left thumb descended to her clit and she worked two fingers into herself, slowly at first — coating her hand with her essence. She started pumping, imagining heroes yet unsung. She remembered soothing her growling beast and her right hand speared through her hair. She pumped faster and faster, fiddling with her clit on each pump. She clutched her scalp as she came, whispering, “Jack!”

“Miss?” Sanura called through the opening of the tent without entering. Bless her. “Just a moment!” Phryne called out and rolled over grabbing her black satin robe. “Come in, Sanura.”  The younger woman entered the tent. “It’s time, Miss. Jahi and Salih are dressing him now. I’ve instructed him for the sake of the onlookers, and I think he is afraid.” Phryne closed her eyes in regret. “I hate that we have to put him through this charade, but it’s the safest way.” Sanura nodded demurely. “Yes, Miss.”

“I’ll explain it to him once I’m certain we can’t be overheard.” Her companion helped her with her veil and left the tent. Phryne tried to arrange herself on the dais, but every position felt awkward to her. Why was she so nervous? This was Jack. She loved him. She was reasonably certain that he loved her. He did come after her. Well, gave it a very good effort at any rate. Why was she afraid of this? There was a noise outside the tent and she watched as Sanura held open the flap as she directed Jack into the tent. Phryne found she was barely breathing. Sanura bowed out of the tent and Jack started trying to take in his environment.

Phryne was speechless, and almost breathless, as Jack turned slowly looking around the room. He wore a white-linen, translucent, ankle-length thawb. His hair had grown since Australia, and was brushed since she saw him in the bath tent, but still free of its usual pomade. It curled up at the ends and was tousled in loose auburn waves all over. His wide-eyed gaze finally came to rest on her on the dais. She wasn’t sure whether she should begin speaking, or even how to begin. Instead, he made the first sound.

 He took a deep breath “I appreciate all that you have done, don’t think that I don’t. The bath, the food, the not killing me… please believe I’m grateful… but I. I’m in lo…I mean to say, I already belong to someone else.”

Phryne tried to get up to move towards him. She just wanted to go to him now. Her robe fell open, obviously exposing herself to him. Oh, dear. Even in the amber light of the tent, Phryne could see him blushing furiously. He looked for a long moment before he averted his eyes upwards. “I can see that you are quite lovely, and I’m sure that any man would be honoured to ‘please you’… but please. Please understand,” He choked out, “I’m taken.”

 He turned his back on Phryne and stood facing the tent entrance. “Oh, my darling Jack,” Phryne thought, “What have I done to you?” She removed her veil and moved behind him, trailing her fingers across his back, memorizing the feel of the muscles through the thin material of the thawb as she pressed her fingers across his shoulders. He took a deep breath, trying to control his anxiety. She moved around to the front of him, keeping her eyes on his face. His eyes were closed.

She loved this face. She traced her fingers over his brows, across his cheeks, down his nose, along his chin, finally circling his lips, imprinting his patterns for anamnesis. She saw dampness form under his lashes and it broke her heart. She willed him to open his eyes. He sighed as he whispered, “Oh, how I wish you really were…” he opened his eyes, “Phryne!?”

“Hello, Jack.” 


	6. Things they Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack reunite. Fluffy smut. Smutty fluff.

“Are you alright?” she couldn’t believe she was finally looking into his eyes. She’d removed her hands from his face and settled them on his chest. After an eternity of conversation passed between them wordlessly, he finally spoke, still holding her gaze. “All the better for seeing you, Miss Fisher,” his voice deep and husky with emotion as he took her line in this song.

He smiled softly at her and his voice regained some of its usual control, “Though I’m a little confused as to why I’m seeing you. Aren’t you meant to be in England?” he queried, “I believe I was to come after you.”

Phryne was on better footing now. This was the Jack she knew, “Yes, well, you were taking too long, so I decided to come after you,” she pouted, looking at her fingers smoothing over his chest as she spoke, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Unbearably,” he stopped her hands, and lifted them to kiss her fingers gently as her eyes followed her fingers and her breath hitched as she watched his lips.

His brow furrowed. “Hold on, how are you a queen now? World events haven’t progressed that much in the past few weeks, have they?”

“Well, no.” she whispered conspiratorially, “I’m undercover.”

Jack nodded in the semblance of understanding. “So where are we now?” he asked. “The Wagh el Birket Market. It’s a nomadic slave auction.” She said in a way he had come to recognize as deflective. “Phryne,” he said in a warning tone, “what aren’t you telling me?”  Jack pulled back from her slightly to get a better look at her as she struggled to answer.

She knew he was going to hate this. “What do you know about your abduction?” she tried to kick this conversation down the street a little farther, “What do you remember?”  

She led him over to sit with her on the bed. Still holding his hand. They reclined slightly, resting on opposite elbows facing each other.

“Not a lot, I’m afraid,” he admitted, “I remember trying to stop some men hurting a girl,” Phryne interrupted him at this point. “That was Sanura,” she explained, “She brought you the fruit and water.” Jack’s brows pinched together in confusion, “How did she…?”

Phryne closed her eyes rather than admit this openly. “I was following you.” Jack’s eyes widened and his eyebrows ascended in surprise, “You were following me? I didn’t even know you were in Egypt.” She let out a sigh, “I was _trying_ to surprise you.” she whined (just a little) and rolled her eyes.

“Consider me surprised,” he confirmed. After a moment he continued his inquiry, “So, you rescued her?”  Phryne was happy to get back on track with the story. “I tried to rescue both of you, but they drove you off in a van before I could get to you.” Jack nodded looking at her, and then at something out of sight, processing the information as well as he could. Pieces of data started to snap into place, he focused back on her with a frown, “Hold on a tick, I’m remembering something.” Phryne gave him a tight smile but said nothing. “That man. The well-dressed bloke. He told me I’d been...” He searched her face, “sold.”  She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together tightly, and exhaled flaring her nostrils in frustration at the entire situation. She hated everything about this.

“I had to buy you.” She finally admitted quietly. He stared at her, reactionless for a year. Well, probably only a few seconds, but to Phryne it felt like ages.

“I see.” He finally responded.  “Jack,” she cocked her head at him in a plea to understand that this was the only way. He studied her closely now. He’d moved on from stunned silence. He had transitioned to studious investigation.

“Why are you here, Phryne?” he asked quietly.

“I told you, Jack,” she responded, “I was trying to surprise you.”

He shook his head. “No, Phryne. Why are you here at this…” he looked around the tent pointlessly waiving around the hand that Phryne wasn’t still clutching, “slave market?”

“I had to rescue you,” she said quickly without even considering that there was ever any other option. Phryne furrowed her brows in confusion. What a ridiculous question. Of course she had to rescue him. Jack continued to study her. “Why?”  Phryne searched his face, “What do you mean, ‘Why?’ You’d been kidnapped!” Phryne was desperately confused.

Jack patiently continued to study her, gently stoking her fingers with his own, “Why did you continue to pursue my kidnappers, put this young woman—whom you’d already rescued—in danger again, and then spend—I assume—a tidy sum, to purchase a lowly Australian police detective?”

Phryne felt the temperature rise in her cheeks. Alright. These were fair questions. She did it because he was her friend. She did it because he was her partner. She did it because he was her family.  If she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she did it because she loved him. Deeply. Completely. Totally. Uncontrollably. Loved him.  It should be simplicity itself to tell him. It wasn’t.

Outside, the drums and tambourines and lutes and ouds started playing for the night.

 “Phryne,” he probed again, “why?”

“I had to rescue you.” She repeated in a whisper. Tears flooded her eyes but didn’t drop from them. He leaned towards to her, pulling her imperceptivity closer where their hands were clasped together on the bed.

“You’re blushing,” he noted with a husky note added to his voice, running a single finger on his free hand, slowly down her arm. “I’m a grown woman, Inspector. I’m not likely to blush.” She protested. He leaned closer still. “That’s what surprises me, Miss Fisher.” He smiled slightly as he moved even closer, “Why, Phryne?” He said this last with no space between their lips. It wasn’t a kiss. It was more of a merger.

“Because, you idiot. I love you,” She finally admitted into his lips. Now it was a kiss. He sucked at her lower lip lightly, and then pressed his lips firmly forward opening his mouth. His tongue licked at her lips, and pushed farther as she opened them to him. Her tongue greeted his and then sought to explore his space as well. As they deepened their kiss, Jack’s free hand moved to the back of her head, tangling into her hair and he pulled her on top of himself as he rolled onto his back, never breaking the kiss. The change in position freed their clasped hands. Jack moved his newly freed hand to the small of her back. Phryne was running her hands slowly up and down the sides of Jack’s body, becoming increasingly aware of his interest as it pressed into her thigh.

Phryne pulled away from him to catch her breath looking down on him, placing her hands on his chest. He released his grip on her head and traced the back of his fingers down her face. “I feared I’d never see you again,” he rasped out at her.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Jack.” She smiled down at him, absently moving a stray lock of hair off of his forehead.  He looked up at her with shining eyes.

“I love you, Phryne Fisher.”

“Just remember who said it first,” she smirked at him. He rolled his eyes.

She leaned down and kissed him again. Tenderly. Seriously. Somberly. As they kissed she felt his breath get faster and suddenly he flipped them both, and she giggled, “JAaack!” He started kissing her neck, growling and nibbling at it as he nuzzled. It tickled. It also sent spasms of pleasure to her core.

“I was told to ‘please the queen’,” he smirked into her neck, “and I am a man…” he nipped, “who follows orders.” His hand moved under her robe and found her breast. She arched her breast into his hand as he continued to lavish kisses on her neck. At her affirmative response, he continued to knead her breast in a rhythm set by her pulsing against him. She pulled his face up to hers and kissed him deeply. He took the opportunity to untie her robe, and pushed it open to reveal her nakedness underneath.  He ran his hand down her body, and lightly rested his hand atop the curls between her legs. He pulled back from the kiss, “May I taste you, my queen?” He smirked at her. Phryne reached to kiss him again, “You may, good sir.” She smiled back at him. She watched him smilingly as he kissed his way down her torso. He spent a bit of time at her breasts, not wanting them to be lonely, he explained. He stopped first to visit her left breast sucking lightly on her nipple as he looked up at her with a half grin as he lightly nipped. She gasped grabbing at the blankets at the unexpected sensation of pleasure. He licked and suckled kisses travelling to the right breast, and then repeated the ritual. She grinned at him and raised an eyebrow at his cheekiness. 

He kissed his way down her stomach, licking a circle around her naval.  He leveraged himself up again to move down the bed and then settled between her legs. He wrapped his deceptively strong arms around her thighs. He sucked and bit at her right inner thigh hungrily, slowly making his way up to the center. She writhed beneath him, her heels feeling the linen of his thawb. He kissed her lightly, teasingly at the top of her curls and then trailed up and down the left thigh. He came back to the top of her curls and the kissed up again to her naval. She stared down her torso at him. The teasing look in her face was gone. She was hungry and needy now, “Please, Jack,” she begged.

He placed a sucking kiss below her naval and grinned up at her. Her return look was more desperate.

He started kissing down towards her slit. She felt his tongue loop around her clit and he let out a low moan, the moan she’d only ever heard when she’d fed him something delicious, and her back arched, her head dropping back as far as it would go. “Oh, Jack.”

He sucked and twirled his tongue around her clit, grasping her hips trying to bring his feast closer. She grasped for his biceps and her breathing started becoming shorter and shorter.  He moved his hands to the tops of her thighs and pressed them open wider and then licked and kissed her clit with a delicious, “Mmmm,” one more time before moving his tongue to her opening.  Phryne grasped her breasts and cried out as he plunged his tongue in and out of her, nuzzling her clit with his nose, his eyes lolling as they closed in euphoria. She arched and writhed and gripped the blankets. It felt so delightful, but it wasn’t quite enough. “More,” she panted.

Jack grinned against her cleft and moved up to suck her clit again, he maneuvered his right hand, palm up, towards her opening and placed his middle finger there. He circled it, testing her. His finger was drenched already. “Is this what you want?” He breathed into her fur. She nodded and let out a breathy, almost whine, “yes.”

Jack moved his middle finger deeply into her plunging slowly in and out once. Twice. And then he added a second finger, cupping her pubis on each stroke. Repeat. A third. Slowly building faster. Jack dipped his head and sucked her clit again, continuing to pump his hand in and out of her soaking quim. Faster and faster he pumped. Her breath was coming in short gasps now and she had a look of complete agony on her face. The cords of her neck strained and she spasmed into rigor vitae. Her muscles locked and cold pleasure rushed throughout her as all of her blood rushed to her sex.  Her inner walls clamped and squeezed around Jack’s fingers as she let out a choked moan. He slowed his hand but continued to lightly alternate sucking on her clit and lapping the new juices that flowed out of her. Her previous muscle tension slacked and she collapsed into seeming bonelessness, her arm slung across her eyes, sweat glistening on her body.

He gazed up and watched as her chest started to rise and fall a little more deeply than before. He smiled slightly at the gloriousness that was Phryne Fisher in post-orgasmic bliss. Wanting one more taste, he dipped his mouth to her clit and lapped. She jumped and twitched, trying to clamp her knees together, giggling: “JACK!” She writhed and moved to grab him by his face, pulling him up to her. He climbed up to her. “Not yet,” she licked his chin, “I need a short intermission,” licking his lips and deepening the kiss.

“Have I succeeded in my mission?” he asked.  She answered him with a deep kiss. “You have exceeded your mission.” She realized she was still wearing her robe and started to remove it.

Then she realized that Jack was still wearing his thawb. “This needs to come off. Now!” she ordered. “I thought you’d never ask,” quipped Jack. He stood to pull off the ankle length garment, reaching behind his head to pull it off in what was supposed to be a smooth stroke. He got a tangled in it, causing Phryne to burst out laughing as he struggled with the arms. “How in the hell are you supposed to remove this?” Once he’d managed to disentangle himself and ball up the offending linen, tossing it to the side, he stood before her — magnificent. She stopped laughing immediately she hummed in approval still smiling wickedly. He was not a particularly tall man—nor was he short, mind— he was perfectly proportional. He was svelte and muscular in a wiry, strong way. For the umpteenth time, thought Phryne, “He is beautiful.” 

He stalked back towards her like a leopard, crawling back over her as he reached the bed. She reached again for his beloved face and kissed his lips soundly. “Something funny, Miss Fisher?” he asked between kisses as his hands roved over her body. “Not at all, Inspector.” She answered moving her hands down his body, reveling in feeling his naked skin against hers at last. “In fact,” she purred at him, “I’ve got a very serious problem.” He continued kissing her despite her declaration. “Is that so, Miss Fisher?” he moved his hand to cup her bottom, “And what would that problem be?” his voice was nearly a growl at this point.  She was getting breathless, “The problem is twofold, you see.” She was biting at his earlobe and he as starting to lose his famous control. “Go on, Miss Fisher,” he fully growled, “What’s the first problem?”  She kissed and licked along his jawline, “I’m worried that you feel like you have to be here because I paid for you.” He stopped their game completely, and pulled up to look at her.

“Phryne,” he looked at her seriously, sweeping his eyes over her face. His eyes had reverted from animal lust to adoring love in an instant, “I love you. There is nowhere I’d rather be. I have wanted you for longer than is probably legal. I want you. I want us.” Her eyes moistened unbidden but she fought the urge to let the tears drop. She didn’t realize the seriousness behind her teasing. Part of her had been very worried that he was being forced into this physical relationship with her. That he was being forced into this before he was ready. She touched his face gently, and then guided it to her own to kiss him deeply. When he pulled away to breathe, he stroked her face tenderly. He creased his eyebrows and looked at her, “What was the second problem?” She grinned up at him. “You haven’t fucked me yet.”

He raised his eyebrows at her and then smiled wickedly, “I guess we should do something about that,” and he dipped his head to kiss her again.

  

* * *

 

They hadn’t slept much, Phryne’s problems had been solved, but the dim light in the tent indicated that the sun was rising soon and there were plans afoot. Phryne kissed Jack’s bare chest. “Jack, darling, wake up.” He made a slight moaning sound. “Jaa-ck,” she tried again. “Nngh,” he responded.

“Jack,” she hissed at him and pinched his side. “Ow. What?!” he looked around confused. “Where? Phryne?” She smiled at him, “Good morning, Jack.”  He smiled a sleepy, but genuinely happy smile at her, “Good morning.”

“As much as I would love to ravish you again this morning, darling” she said regretfully, but kissing him lightly, “we need to get moving.”  Jack blinked sleepily at her. “Moving?”

“Yes, Jack, It’s all part of the plan. I thought I told you last night?” she sat up from their tangled mess of bedclothes. “Other than the obvious, last night is a bit of a blur,” Jack admitted propping himself on an elbow reaching for her hip to place a kiss on it. “Yes, you do have admirable focus,” she complimented him, pivoting to cup the face resting near her hip. “But, Jack, I need you to focus on the plan now.”  Jack fell backwards against the bed dropping his arm across his eyes. “In that case, Miss Fisher, please do me the favor of getting dressed,” he peaked out from under his arm, “it will at least give me a fighting chance.” He winked at her. “Very well, Inspector.”

She donned the first layer of her burqa and he mostly figured out how to untangle and re-dress himself in the thawb, “I still don’t see how we’re supposed to get out of here and stop this slavery operation.”  She smiled at him.


	7. Things they Said to each other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phryne and Jack are finally together but they and Phryne's new friends are still in a dangerous situation. They still need to take down the slave market and rescue Sanura's brother. Can they do it? Of course they can. Mostly fluffy ribbons and bows.

“That’s because you’re not a telescope.” She winked at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yes, but there are only five of us, and as phenomenal as you are,” she turned back towards him and smiled genuinely at him before turning back to the task of getting re-robed in the cumbersome garments, sans veil. He smiled back at her with a tilt of his head and then continued, “As phenomenal as you are — the five include two somewhat frail young men and an admittedly tough, but still vulnerable, teen-aged girl.”

Phryne had finished her task as he finished his speech. She looked at him, grinning for a long beat. Finally, she laughed, “You really did miss everything I told you about the plan last night didn’t you, darling?” Jack tried to frown at the admonishment, but felt a surge of joy at the endearment. It ended up looking more like a pursed-lip smile. “You were  _ very _ distracting.” He offered in his defense as he pulled her closer to nuzzle and suck on her earlobe. “Jack!” she scolded, but not very convincingly.

“Miss?” Sanura called from the other side of the tent. “It’s alright, Sanura,” Phryne called to her, “we’re robed.” The girl ducked into the tent to find her mistress and the man who had stopped her abduction standing slightly apart, but looking much more relaxed and happy than the previous evening. “It’s time, Miss,” she reported, “Jahi and Salih are in position. I have received the signal on the crystal set from Thabit, he is ready. The others, they are coming.” Phryne turned and fixed Jack with a dazzling smile, “Show time!”

 

* * *

 

 

The trio ducked out of the tent into the hazy early morning light. The sun had not yet completely made it up over the horizon and the camp would not normally be waking after the raucous night, but everywhere people were shouting and running about. A wall of dust and the sound of truck engines was coming quickly towards the camp. “What on earth?” Jack looked on in wonder. “The cavalry is coming!” she sparkled at him, “quite literally.” And then she added, “Close your mouth, darling.” He complied.

Specifically, the British Army’s 3 rd Egyptian Cavalry Brigade under the command of Colonel Reginald Lloyd. After her failure at the previous week, Phryne decided there was too much here to handle alone. Hans mentioned that Freddie was the nephew of the commander of one of the British Army Brigades. “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?” she’d raged at him, “having access to an army would make things significantly simpler!” He confessed it hadn’t occurred to him.

It turned out that Colonel Lloyd was extremely interested in finding a way to stem the flow of human trafficking, but hadn’t found a way in. The Suez Canal had opened the world. Unfortunately, that meant it had opened the world to evils as well as goods.

Several of the “People Movers” vans did get away with some of his men, but Ziyad Gahiji was arrested. All the people being offered for sale during this particular iteration of the market were rescued.

As the morning wore on, the troops—under Colonel Lloyd’s direction—sorted people into categories for transport back to the British military compound at Abbassia. They’d bound the merchants, and freed the slaves.

Jahi and Salih began to distribute the food, water, and fresh clothing that they had prepared for the newly freed slaves. When some of the soldiers noted what they were doing, they sought and received permission to join in the distribution.

Phryne walked over to Colonel Lloyd. “Miss Fisher. Successful operation, I’d say.” Colonel Lloyd greeted her with a curt nod. “Were you successful in your mission?”

“Yes, Colonel,” Phryne pulled Jack forward slightly to introduce him, “Colonel Reginald Lloyd, Commander of the 3 rd Egyptian Cavalry Brigade, may I present Detective Inspector Jack Robinson, Victoria Police.”

They shook hands and exchanged greetings and pleasantries.

“Mr. Gahiji has agreed to tell us about his competitors,” Colonel Lloyd shared with the detectives, “but he’s been less forthcoming with his own dealings so far. Sadly, some of his men got away.”

Ziyad Gahiji was shoved out of a nearby tent, flanked by two British soldiers and marched towards a waiting vehicle. From behind him, they all turned as they heard a guttural, primal scream. It was Sanura. She was charging towards Gahiji.

Sanura was livid.  _ “ _ _ Où est-il?! _ _ (Where is he?!)” _ she screamed at Gahiji, “Who did you sell him to?!” the British soldiers were now restraining her.  _ “ _ _ Où se trouve Tarik?! _ _ (Where is Tarik?!)” _

Gahiji sneered,  _ “ _ _ Je ne sais pas de quoi elle parle. ( _ _ I don’t know what she’s talking about.)” _

Sanura sank to her knees and wept uncontrollably. She pulled the picture of Tarik out of her robes and faced it to Gahiji, “Please,  _ dites-moi où il est! ( _ _ tell me where he is!) _ ” she pled, tears streaming down her face. Phryne was on the ground in an instant, hugging her friend close as she shook with grief and rage. A grief and rage which was all too familiar to herself. She hated that Sanura was going this familiar pain. She wished it on nobody, but especially not on someone she’d grown to love.

Jack came close to the pair of women. His heart broke for the younger woman. As he came closer, he looked at the photo clutched in her trembling hands. “I know this boy!”

 

* * *

 

 

Back at the compound in Abbassia, Gahiji decided that the less he said the better his options. He acted as if he had an ace up his sleeve.

Jack shared that when he had been held—God knows where—in Gahiji’s warehouse, Sanura’s brother Tarik had been his only companion for most of two weeks. He hadn’t spoken to him. He just fed him. And, much to Jack’s great shame, he confessed, took a beating for him.

“It was not your fault,” Sanura soothed him with a hand on his. Jack nodded, unconvinced. “Gahiji is the monster. Not you,” Sanura continued, “If not for you, I would have been taken too.” Her eyes were still puffy from weeping. She had a distant sadness in them, but there was now a spark of hope. Jack’s news meant that Tarik might still be at Gahiji’s warehouse.

Some of Lloyd’s men came in and saluted him. “Colonel Lloyd. We found the warehouse owned by Mr. Gahiji but it looks like it was recently cleared out, sir.”

“Damn.” Colonel Lloyd through his pen on the desk. They were in a large open room that seemed more of a hangar than an office. Gahiji was chained to a bar on a nearby desk, and at the news, broke into a wide smile.

Sanura’s head dropped to her chest. Jack tentatively reached out a hand and patted her on the shoulder. She slumped sideways onto his shoulder and let him soothe her with a side embrace.

A short while later, Phryne strutted back into the room, and Jack’s eyes tilted up to meet hers. She looked at him comforting her friend and smiled gently, mentally telegraphing to him to continue.

“Colonel,” she announced as she walked up to the man, “there’s a young man who will be arriving soon who will need access to the compound. Please grant it.”

“What’s this about Miss Fisher?” Colonel Lloyd asked. At that moment, a junior officer entered the room. “Colonel, there is a— large— local man asking to see Miss Fisher.”  Colonel stared at the junior officer for a moment and then back at Miss Fisher who gave him a tight-lipped smile. “Very well. Let him in.”

A few minutes later, Thabit was led into the room. He walked past Sanura, maintaining eye contact with her as he passed, but then breaking it when he reached Miss Fisher and Colonel Lloyd.

_ “Bonjour, Thabit (Hello, Thabit),” _ she greeted him,  _ “avez-vous réussi? (were you successful)?” _ He looked over at his former boss with disgust. Gahiji took in this newcomer with dawning dread, “ _ ’ANT! (YOU!)” _ Gahiji spoke in Arabic to the man, “‘ _ Ant min almftrd 'an takun maytatan! _ _ (You are supposed to be dead!)” _

_ “Oui, mademoiselle Fisher, vous aviez raison. Je les ai suivis dans le nouvel emplacement. (Yes, Miss Fisher, you were correct. I followed them to the new location.”)  _ Thabit smiled in answer to her, casting a smug look back at Gahiji.  _ “Quelle merveille, Thabit! Merci beaucoup! (How Marvelous, Thabit. Thanks very much!)”  _ she smiled at him before turning to Colonel Lloyd.

“Well, Colonel, Mr. Bomoni here,” she indicated to Thabit, “can lead you to Mr. Gahiji’s new base of operations.”  Mr. Gahiji no longer looked as if he had an ace up his sleeve. He as if he had been punched in the gut.

 

* * *

 

 

“I’m glad you got your money back,” Jack spoke into her hair as they stood on the terrace of the Shepheard’s Hotel. He stroked his hand down her arm. “Mmm. So am I,” agreed Phryne, “though I still feel you’re a worthwhile investment. I’m happy to have reinvested it in a more positive marketplace.”

“Yes, that money will go a long way towards helping all those people get settled,” Jack mused. “And I can’t think of a better person to run things that Sanura. She has a good head on her shoulders.”

“She does,” Phryne agreed, “She’s already found permanent positions for most of the survivors of the market. Hans and Freddie are helping as well. It doesn’t hurt that they need good helpers for the dig and the Egyptian government is willing to give them buckets of money to cover up the fact that they were complicit in the market.”

“No, it doesn’t hurt at all,” Jack wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind and kissed her hair, “and what of poor Thabit. Is he still trying to woo dear Sanura?” Phryne chuckled.

“He is making attempts, but Sanura is too wise for that, I think. Perhaps someday, but it will take more than a sudden change of heart and grandiose gesture to win the heart of one so wise as she.”

Jack smiled, “Sounds familiar.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Phryne smiled over her shoulder at him before changing the subject, “Anyway, Jahi is actually quite bright with figures, as it turns out.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, “Hopefully better than he is with a sponge.” Phryne swatted at his arm, “Jaa-ck.” He chuckled slightly, “Ow. I’m joking.” Phryne fixed him with a stare, “Not funny, Jack.” He looked at her more seriously, “No. No, I know,” he closed his eyes for a long blink and then looked at her again, “the whole situation is ‘not funny, Jack’, but I’m still trying to work out how to make peace with it.”

She leaned back against him reveling in the feel of him pressed to her, “Yes, I think Sanura has everything well in hand,” she said as she gazed out over the desert from the terrace, “now that she has Tarik back, I do believe her to be unstoppable.” He kissed her hair again and pulled her tighter against him allowing her to feel that he was becoming aroused, “Much like her mentor,” he rumbled.

“Hmm. And a good thing, too, if I’m to keep you out of trouble,” she concurred saucily.

“Keep  _ ME _ out of trouble? I’m not one whom murder seeks out,” he pointed out reasonably, “And, I might add, I was having an exceedingly quiet journey until you showed up, albeit unbeknownst by me.” She turned in his arms and looped her arms around his neck, bringing her face very close to his.

“Two points, Inspector. One, there wasn’t a murder.” She kissed him deeply. Her hands massaged the back of his head while her tongue massaged his mouth. His hands trailed down her back and came to rest on her bottom, squeezing her closer into himself and he let out a low moan. He pulled back from her, “What was the second point, Miss Fisher?”

 

* * *

 

 

Jack noted that waking up with Phryne Fisher when she was on a mission was vastly different from waking with her when she wasn’t. The first morning she had been the first awake and ready to spring into action. Most mornings since, she sprawled on her stomach and didn’t wake until at least noon. Today she was sprawled on her back, ever so slightly snoring with head tilted away from him, her arms akimbo, and her legs splayed open under Damask sheets. He rested on his belly, chin on his hands, studying her. She really was spectacular. He was still completely flummoxed as to why she was in love with him, but evidently, she was. He was in awe of her beauty, of course. He had been since that morning in the Andrews’ bathroom. But it was her heart and mind that really had him completely head over heels in love with her. He knew she’d come after him, but she’d also come after all of those other people who needed to be saved. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be the Phryne Fisher he was in love with.

“Good morning, Jack,” her sleepy voice roused him from his thoughts. “Mmm, good morning, sleepy head.” she turned towards him and he pushed himself forward to kiss her lightly on the lips.  He then settled back down near her breast. “Geneh for your thoughts, Inspector,” she bartered, beginning to play lightly with his hair. “I thought you already owned all my thoughts,” he grinned cheekily, as he kissed her side. She gave him a warning look. “I know, I know. Not funny.” She soothed his forehead, “No.”

“I must admit,” Jack said into her skin, “the whole experience did make uncomfortable with the idea of ‘belonging’ to someone.” 

“How very progressive of you, Inspector,” Phryne was now stroking his hair, “what does that mean for us, in your opinion?”

“Well,” he breathed and kissed her breast, “I love you, you know that very well.”

“Yes,” she confirmed.

“And I do believe that you love me as well,” he said with another kiss, this time to her nipple, adding a lick.

“Yes,” she confirmed, “I find that I do, very much.” He circled her nipple with his tongue and gave it a suck and then pulled away saying, “I’m very glad to hear it.”

“Mmm. Jaa-ck. That’s lovely. Go on” she meant with his opinion about their relationship, but she would be just as happy if he took it as going on with his ministrations.

“Well, we’re partners,” he mused with a kiss to the side of her breast, “and that’s rather wonderful.”

“It is,” she agreed.

“But I think we’re still whole on our own,” he said with a crease in his brow, “if that makes sense?”

“It does,” she purred.

“I do think,” he said as he kissed her nipple again, “we are better together.”

She gripped his head and held it to her breast. He took that as a sign and continued his actions until she shimmied down the bed to meet his mouth. “I heartily agree, Inspector,” she concurred with his assessment of their relationship and kissed him deeply. She rubbed herself against him, maneuvering her hand to his cock. He growled at her, “What are you doing, Miss Fisher?”

“What we do best, Jack,” she purred at him, “and I’m afraid I’m going to have to touch you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The crystal set that Sanura refers to s a crystal radio receiver popular in the early days of radio. It needs no other power source but that received solely from the power of radio waves received by a wired antenna. It can be built by anyone very easily and were in use in the 1920s.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't remember what sparked the discussion, but the line: "Shave him and bring him to my tent" came up and I got this idea for an undercover trope fiction submission. The Arabic line "Yastahimu laha. Yuhaliq lah. Wahalb la ‘iilaa khaymat jablin" roughly translates (according to Google translator) as "Bathe him. Shave him. Bring him to my tent."


End file.
